


The Prince's Haven

by starrynoctsky (lightinthehall)



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bathing/Washing, Cock Warming, Happy Birthday Noctis, Hot Springs & Onsen, Lap Sex, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Orgasm Delay, Post-Brotherhood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2019-08-31
Packaged: 2020-10-03 20:29:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20459003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lightinthehall/pseuds/starrynoctsky
Summary: “Do you have need of me, Noct?”Those blue eyes flash with understanding, catching brilliantly in the sunlight and shining with a vulnerability that only Ignis ever gets to see.“Yeah. Yeah… Ignis.Need you."





	The Prince's Haven

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a certain prince's birthday <3  
  
**Inspired by:** [FalchionSage’s ignoct onsen art here](https://twitter.com/FalchionSage/status/1157294071989379072?s=20)  
  
And ofc thank you so much to Salt for being the ever-supportive beta <3  
  
**NOTE: Noctis is 17 (turning 18) and Ignis is 19**

A hand’s width apart.

The established distance between the advisor and the crown prince. It’s a common sight around Insomnia to see Ignis at the Noctis’ side, close, but never straying over the line of propriety, and never more than a dutiful step behind.

Today, Noctis is miles away.

“Shall we bathe first, Highness?”

“Highness?” Ignis repeats when the prince doesn’t respond. Then, “Noct?”

Sitting up from the futon he’d collapsed onto promptly after their arrival, Noctis’ shoulders hunch forward, midnight hair falling into his face. He dodges Ignis’ concerned stare, the attention behind blue eyes fading, growing distant once again. A worrying habit of late. “Yeah. Yeah… that sounds good.”

They have the luxury of the royal bathhouse to themselves for the next few days. The facility had been built at the edge of Insomnia, one of the only buildings left that can still boast the beautiful, traditional style of a previous era, with its screen walls and tatami floors.

Ignis gathers the necessary supplies into a basket, leading Noctis through the sliding glass patio doors and towards the sheltered bathing area.

Outside, the overarching boughs of lush, green trees shelter them from the full scorch of the summer sun. It’s peaceful here, no distractions apart from the sweet notes sung by the occasional songbird and the serene sounds of rushing water. It’s their own little escape from the constant noise and prying eyes of the Crown City.

A place where an advisor could breach the distance between himself and his prince.

Noctis walks in step with him, but just out of arm’s reach, the centre of the path a gaping space between them. Every inch that they’re separated feels like a mile, especially when Noctis closes himself off like this, letting his troubles pile onto him until he can’t find his way out.

“The attendants have been instructed not to enter our rooms without our express permission,” Ignis says, hoping that Noctis will take comfort in the affirmation of their safe space. In light of the upcoming ceremony, they’ve been staying at their old rooms within the Citadel, where privacy and time alone have been a rarity. There’s always been an official seeking their attention, a member of the press hanging onto their every word, or a crownsguard just around the corner.

It had been trying, even for Ignis, having gotten used to the casual touches, and the sweet kisses they’d shared behind the closed doors of Noctis’ apartment. His fingers ache for the soft skin beneath sleep shirts; for the feel of Noctis within his arms at the break of dawn.

The dark circles beneath Noct’s eyes tell of a similar struggle. Ignis had expected Noctis to close the distance between them as soon as they’d arrived at the compound, but Noctis had shrunk away from him instead.

It stings, but it’s a sure sign that the prince is hurting in more ways than he can express.

Ignis aches to help him, to ease the weight of the world crushing upon those shoulders, to free him from the burdens that threaten to bury him. He wants to rush in and save him from the darkness shadowing his mind. But this matter requires a strategy of its own – they’ve both learned the hard way that pushing Noctis only digs him in deeper, leading to outbursts of frustration from them both. All Ignis can do is wait him out, leave gentle words, little touches – a trail of affection that will hopefully coax Noctis out from behind his wall.

The bathing area is a small, covered enclosure equipped with two shower heads and a faucet hanging over a large basin. Ignis sets their things aside, seizing the opportunity to close the few steps separating them, smoothly dropping to his knees to take Noctis’ foot between his hands.

It’s hardly an unfamiliar position for them, and Ignis hopes Noctis recognizes the gesture for what it is.

“Allow me, Highness.” Slender ankle cupped within his palm, he gently removes the flat wooden slipper, allowing the prince to rebalance before assisting his other foot.

When Ignis’ hands move to the top button of his shirt, Noctis pointedly looks away with a vaguely expectant air, the brat. He doesn’t speak, but his eyelashes flutter as each button is undone, Ignis’ gentle thumb caressing his collarbone, his knuckles grazing toned stomach muscles. The shirt falls open to fully expose an expanse of tempting skin, and Ignis swallows.

His fingers trail down to rest atop the edge of Noct’s pants, but Noctis reaches down to unbutton them himself, shimmying the band over his hips, revealing the rest of his body to Ignis’ intent gaze. He almost reaches out again, eager to please, but thinks better of it. Despite his teasing touches earlier, he’d like to make it further than the bath today. With great reluctance, he backs away, turning away as Noctis steps out of the puddled pants and boxers on the ground.

Ignis makes quick work of his own clothing, tamping down the inevitable rush of bashfulness as his bare skin meets the hot air, the modest sensibilities that have been drummed into him over the years keenly aware of the public setting. He folds their clothes neatly, setting them aside in the provided wicker baskets, and turns just in time to catch Noctis’ eye, before the prince darts his stare away.

Ignis smiles at Noct’s reddening ears. It seems he isn’t the only one indulging in secret glances.

Feeling emboldened despite his nudity, Ignis moves ahead to twist the handles of the faucet until warm water rushes out into the wash basin. He fills the small bath pail, and pours water overtop Noctis, careful to avoid the black strands curling over his nape.

His eyes roam shamelessly over the prince’s pale skin, glistening in the sunlight. Ignis lathers soap onto a washcloth, gently scrubbing over the prince’s arms, smoothing circles across his chest, and then more carefully over the scar on his back. Still avoiding Ignis’ gaze, the prince shudders, breath hitching as the rough fabric grazes over the sensitive skin. Determined to complete his task, Ignis re-applies soap to the cloth, continuing his way down toned legs, leaving trails of soft touches along firm thighs.

Soap suds follow the enticing trail of black hair leading down from his belly button and Ignis has to restrain himself again, forgoing temptation and offering up the washcloth so that Noct can finish up his more sensitive areas. The prince takes the cloth with a small murmured ‘thanks.’

Picking up a new wash towel, Ignis scrubs away at his own skin. He’s half-hard from having his hands all over Noct, and the few passes of the soapy cloth over his length feeds the arousal simmering in his core, sending small shivers up his spine.

Once he’s done, he looks back to see Noctis staring sullenly at the suds collecting at his feet, watching the way they disappear through the metal grates amongst the tiled floor. He looks so lost, Ignis’ chest aches in response. _Soon, _he tells himself. Soon, he will fix this. Ignis refills the pail for a final rinse, pouring water over them both.

He wraps a towel around his waist, smiling encouragingly as Noctis quietly follows suit.

“This way, Highness.”

The flat stone pathway is sun-warmed beneath their bare feet. They follow the steps down to the steamy waters of the hot spring, half-obscured by the rocky wall and the thick barrier of bamboo.

His glasses begin to fog, so Ignis sets them aside and undoes his towel, taking the first few steps into the water. The heat is heavenly, he can already feel the tension draining from the muscles overworked by training and tense from political maneuvering within the Citadel.

Half-submerged, he turns back to Noctis and stretches out his hand. The water doesn’t hide much, and much to his own enjoyment, the full-frontal view ruffles the prince’s unaffected air. Flushing a lovely red, Noctis unwraps his towel from his waist before slumping into the water like a sodden cat, narrowing his eyes at the amused smile upon Ignis’ face.

They wade over to the edge, sitting against the rock wall looming high above them, the sound of streaming water soothing in the background.

“It’s nice to be back,” Ignis comments lightly.

Noctis peers at him guiltily, likely well-aware his mood doesn’t make for the best company. “Yeah,” he concedes, staring up at the building that they’d once visited as children. “It’s been a long time.”

The prince avoids his gaze again, and Ignis has had quite enough of that. He steps into Noctis’ space, sweeping the dark hair back, clearing his view of those haunted blue eyes.

Lowering his hand to cup the sweet curve of Noctis’ face, Ignis implores with his aching heart, “Won’t you look at me, Noct? Tell me what’s wrong.”

Mouth tightening into a flat line, Noctis raises his head, eyes wide with hurt when they look into his.

“…It’s all so much,” Noctis admits, and each word in his brief statement is laced with weariness, reluctant to part from the prince’s inner sanctum of emotions and thoughts.

Ignis coaxes Noct closer. “Things will calm after the ceremony, Noct. Please bear with it a little while longer.”

“It’s not – I. In a week, it’ll be real. And there’s no… there’s no turning back. Everyone will be counting on me.”

The prince stalls in his confession, brow heavy with shame, and Ignis understands the real problem lies deeper still. As much as the media spectacle and never-ending preparations have strained him, it’s not just the prince’s upcoming birthday that’s haunting his mind.

“You have me, and we’ll meet each challenge as it arises. His Majesty will not be abdicating anytime soon, love. There is still time.”

Noct’s hands clench and he smacks the surface of the hot spring in frustration, water splashing around them.

“But how much longer can I let him fade away for the sake of the wall? Dad… he deserves a life too.”

Ignis lowers his gaze at that. Noctis has been well-aware of the king’s declining health for years, the adoption of the cane to ease his struggling gait, the fatigued set of his shoulders at the end of each day, and the permanent darkness below his eyes. It would be a sight difficult for any son to witness.

In addition to that, daemons at their doorstep, a kingdom picked to pieces by Niflheim, a wall dependent on his life force, and a vague prophecy of being a saviour of their world. All of this awaits Noctis, a heavy crown for a young man’s head.

And Ignis will be there to help him carry it.

He covers Noct’s clenched fists with his own hands, pressing his lips to the wet knuckles. It burns him up inside that he has no satisfying answers for his prince, but there is something he can do.

“Do you have need of me, Noct?”

He speaks slowly, laying his words down with intent. Those blue eyes flash with understanding, catching brilliantly in the sunlight and shining with a vulnerability that only Ignis ever gets to see. The look strikes him low, rendering him helpless, and Noctis may as well be one of the Gods, an idol Ignis would willingly lay worship to.

“Yeah. Yeah… Ignis. _Need you_,” Noctis whispers into the small space between them, voice as thin as the steamy mist rising around them.

The heat of the hot spring suddenly cannot rival the fire in his veins. He unwinds Noct’s hands and traces his lips along the lifelines of the prince’s open palm. “As you wish.”

0-0-0

“Ah… hng!”

Ignis’ thumb circles the slick, eager hole teasingly, pressing in just a touch to watch the way Noct’s legs tremble, how his back arches for more. He sinks two fingers in easily, twisting them as they disappear into the lovely, pliant body bent over the low wooden table in the middle of the room.

It’s meant for their dinner, but the current view in front of Ignis certainly makes for a satisfying meal.

Noctis’ yukata is undone, open and pushed up around his waist, revealing spread legs and a delightful view of his round ass. His pale skin contrasts beautifully with the ocean-blue shade of the yukata, and the bright orange and gold of the koi fish swimming across the fabric.

An early birthday gift.

Ignis kneels at his side, the flowing midnight blue of his own yukata folded neatly beneath him. Back straight, resting his weight upon his feet, he’s the picture of decorum even as he slides his knuckles past the prince’s tight rim.

Noctis is sprawled out, cheek pressed to the table, outstretched hands slipping along the surface as he keens with every drag and stretch of Ignis’ long fingers.

“You sound lovely,” Ignis sighs, twisting his fingers and pushing deep, eliciting another moan from the prince. His body responds to his love’s call, heat flaring up within him urging him to complete their connection. He focuses himself, counting the golden stars embedded in the robes of his yukata, ignoring the way his straining length distorts the constellations spread across his lap.

“_Please_.”

“Patience, Highness.” Ignis idly hums and removes his fingers from the clenching hole, patting the curve of Noct’s cheek when the boy wiggles his hips at the loss. Sitting back and settling into a more comfortable position, he shuffles the folds of his robes apart for access. Ignis sighs, nerves sparking with pleasure as he languidly strokes himself slick with the lubricant warmed by the prince’s body.

The scandalous view before him – an arched back presenting a stretched, eager hole, and the soft, pale skin framed by the seductive blue of the yukata - and a few quick passes of his hand is enough to have Ignis teetering dangerously at the precipice. He hangs there for a moment before gripping himself at the base, denial and disappointment clawing at his gut.

He draws Noctis to him with a firm hand on his waist, allowing his hardened cock to press against bare thighs. Whining, Noctis pushes off the table, settling on top of Ignis until his back is flat against the advisor’s chest, legs sprawled wide on either side of him.

“Hush, now.” A stroke to his thigh stills the boy, though Ignis can feel the tension running through the lithe body in his arms. The touch of the wide head of his cock against Noctis’ hole elicits a full-body shudder. Ignis wraps an arm across Noct’s front to brace him, lifting him to the proper angle, then lowering him relentlessly onto his cock. Ignis relishes the heavenly heat engulfing him, the shallow sobs that escape Noctis as Ignis pushes in, further and deeper until their hips meet.

“Ha… Ig… _full_,” Noctis moans, already incoherent.

“Yes, full of me,” Ignis agrees, throbbing at every stray clench of heat around him. “Does that please you?”

“_Yes_,” Noctis gasps, hips swivelling, trying to comprehend the entirety of the girth within him. “S’ good.”

Noct’s robes unravel as he moves, puddling around their legs and obscuring Ignis’ view of their intimate connection. His collar droops, revealing a smooth, irresistibly bare shoulder. Ignis kisses the curve of it, following the exposed skin along the Noct’s elegant neck, breathing in deeply and ignoring the urge to rut.

It takes some manoeuvring, but Ignis manages to reach the items he’d set aside earlier without jostling Noctis out of his lap. He works carefully around the obstacle of Noctis’ body, laying out the equipment in front of them. The prince groans impatiently as Ignis sets the large water pot down, followed by the bamboo ladle, and the whisk, carefully straightening each implement as he goes.

The tea ceremony is no longer in regular practice at the citadel, but Ignis and Noctis had been educated in the elegant dance of the longstanding Lucian custom during their lessons.

The scent of fresh green tea wafts into the air as he scoops a small amount of bright green powder into the two teacups. He lifts the long handle of the ladle, dipping it into the large pot and pours the water with practiced swivels of his wrists until steam rises from each cup.

A few moments into this little ceremony and Noctis’ hand begins to tremble upon Ignis’ forearm, twitching with the need to dig his fingers deeper into his skin. It’s a sure sign of the toll on the prince’s patience and self-control. His inner muscles clench around Ignis’ cock at irregular intervals, fluttering around him as an unconscious effort to entice him into movement.

On occasion, the prince must sit through reports, or dinner, or wait, impaled upon his cock as Ignis mends the buttons on his high school uniform. Sometimes, he’s on his knees, tears in his eyes with the effort to stay still, a dick buried in his mouth.

When they play this particular game, he enjoys this position the most, Noct’s sitting upon his lap and Ignis filling him up until there’s no room for anything else.

Like this, Noctis can truly escape the burdens plaguing his mind, all of it falling to make way for the _fullfullsofull_ feeling of Ignis inside of him. It’s their own personal haven, a connection that grounds them both, a shelter from the hurricane of demands and scrutiny of their daily lives.

“Ignis…” Noctis’ mouth opens and closes around Ignis’ name like a prayer, head tilting back restlessly against Ignis’ shoulder.

Ignis whisks the tea with vigor until a light green froth layers the surface. He’s shifting all his focus on the task at hand instead of the invitingly warm, panting breaths alighting the skin within the crook of his neck. He longs to chase those breaths back to those soft lips, to capture each impatient sigh with his own mouth.

Each hitching gasp and pleading sound, the constant heat and even the most subtle movements sends arousal sparking at the edges of his control. If there’s anyone that can drive him to lose his carefully cultivated focus, it would be Noctis. Privately, Ignis can admit that there’s something deeply satisfying about denying himself within the moment, the building anticipation until the eventual release.

It’s a heady power granted to him by Noct, and it fuels Ignis’ core to be the one who can provide for him this way. To be the one he surrenders to.

Noctis always makes a beautiful mess.

Gingerly holding the cup with two hands, Ignis takes a slow sip of his tea, humming to himself, pretending to ignore the way that Noctis trembles in his lap.

“Now, now… the tea ceremony is an art,” Ignis admonishes him, dropping one hand to caress the twitching muscle of his thigh, drawing soothing circles upon his skin.

He occasionally raises the teacup to his lips, making a show of his long sips as if it were any other afternoon, as if he didn’t have the prince impaled on his cock.

Eventually, Noct’s breathing slows, chest rising and falling steadily, burying his face into Ignis’ neck, nuzzling the thin silver chain hanging there. Soft strands of hair tickle the underside of Ignis’ chin and he wonders if Noctis can feel the skip of his heartbeat when the boy’s lips graze over his pulse point. It’s almost as if he were napping - if it weren’t for the way that Noctis squeezes and shifts on Ignis’ length, keeping him hard and buried deep.

The room is quiet save for Noctis’ steady breaths. The feeling of completeness steeps into Ignis’ bones and he wishes, not for the first time, that they could stay this way, lost in each other forever.

Unfortunately, he’s well aware of the thinness of the screen walls, and the scandalous form their silhouette must make to any attendants passing by to inquire after dinner.

Ignis drains the last of his tea, setting the cup down in front of them. His hands wander over Noct’s stomach, sweeping over the flat plane of it and pushing against the firm muscle, perversely pleased to think that he’s _there_, somewhere beneath his hand. Inside the prince. Inside Noct.

His fingers travel even lower, to the hardened length between jutting out between splayed legs, making the prince jump.

“The flavour is quite pleasing, Noct,” Ignis says, stroking lightly and tracing the wet tip with his thumb. “Delicate sweetness, aromatic. Surely you’d enjoy a sip?”

Noctis moans and shakes his head, turning away.

“Now, you know it’s rude to reject tea offered to you. One taste, Highness,” Ignis insists, releasing Noct and raising the other cup to his lips, encouraging him to take it within his own shaking hands. “For me.”

With effort, and with Ignis helping him steady his hands, Noctis draws a messy mouthful from the cup.

“One taste,” Ignis whispers again, urgently, before taking Noct’s mouth in a sudden kiss. Tea spills between their entwined lips in small dribbles as Ignis drinks from prince, tongue lapping at Noct’s as he swallows down all the flavours of him.

He holds Noctis still with a firm hand upon his jaw, chasing the tea over his chin and neck. He doesn’t spare a thought to the dull thud of the teacup upon the tatami mat, encouraged by the prince’s fingers twining and tugging at his hair.

Ignis traces Noct’s sides overtop his yukata, teasing the crumpled hem around his hips and dragging his fingers from thigh to knee.

“You’re so good for me, Noct,” he murmurs softly, leaving light kisses along the sharp edge of the boy’s exposed shoulder, watching the deepening flush of the prince’ cheeks as he melts back into Ignis. “A perfect fit. You feel exquisite.”

“The power you command over me, with or without the crown… you could never comprehend. My Noct.” He whispers little love notes upon heated skin, following the trail of his blush up to Noct’s ears. His fingers search beneath the prince’s robes to twist and pull at a hardened nipple, circling it teasingly. “You hold my heart. Always.”

“_Haahhhhnn-_” Noctis keens, pressing desperately into Ignis’ hot touch, writhing upon Ignis’ lap. “_Ignis_. I lo- _you_ _ah - please –_”

The pleading cracks the dam of Ignis’ control.

“Allow me, Highness,” he says, beginning the slow, gentle roll of his hips upward.

Noctis gasps, the back of his head landing hard upon the curve of Ignis’ shoulder. “Hng!”

Another rolling thrust, and Noct’s mouth falls open as he brushes over a particular spot. Ignis targets the same spot again with the precision and accuracy he’s known for. His arms wrap tightly around Noct’s waist, lifting him up and bringing him down with every thrust, ensuring every inch of him is felt as deeply as possible.

Noctis’ legs kick out, trying to gain leverage, dropping his weight roughly back onto Ignis’ cock as his heels slip along the floor. His hand clutches Ignis’ knee tight, the other reaching up to cling to the back of Ignis’ head, pulling on his hair in a way that only spurs him on.

“_Ignis,_” Noct moans loudly, arching, hips shoving back. By now, his yukata has slipped down both of his shoulders, sweat glistening off the exposed skin. In the soft, yellow light of the lamps, he _glows_. “Harder. _Please_.”

Noctis is so tight around him, the sweet friction making him dizzy with pleasure. With his arm, he sweeps the remnants of their tea ceremony to the side and bends Noctis over the low table once again. He covers Noct with his body, curling over him as his thrusts grow wild, glasses slipping down his nose, dangerously askew, just as desperate as Noctis to reach completion.

Ignis finds Noct’s hand, palm flat against the table and twines their fingers as best he can. The sleeve patterns of their yukatas blend beautifully together, the galaxy of constellations flowing into the blue waters. _The stars over the sea_, Ignis muses, before all thought is swept away from him.

Noctis cries out as he comes, clenching overwhelmingly tight around Ignis. Overwhelmed, Ignis digs his teeth into Noctis’ shoulder to muffle his own moans, vision going bright as he finally lets himself approach the edge and fall, one last thrust before spilling deep inside Noctis.

Noctis is all but limp beneath him. Holding him close, Ignis eases the two of them to the tatami floor, muscles aching from the prolonged strain and exertion.

With private pleasure, he watches his softening cock slip from Noctis’ slick hole, shiny with lube and the trail of his come. An enticing mess framed by the still parted yukata. He kisses the reddened spot upon Noct’s shoulder where the imprint of his teeth lay.

“Are you alright Noct?”

_Look at me_, Ignis pleads silently.

“…You’ll be there?” Noctis asks after a moment, rolling over to face him. Crystalline blue eyes shine back at him, finally clear of the clouds that had plagued them these past few weeks. His sleepy, contented smile shoots an arrow through Ignis’ heart. He’s missed him dearly.

The future looms over them, but Ignis will be sure that Noctis does not face it alone. It doesn’t matter where ‘there’ is – at his coronation, in his apartment, or standing tall beside the throne – as long as it’s by Noct’s side, there will only ever be one answer.

He brushes sweat-damp hair away from Noct’s brow and leans in, laying his vow upon soft lips.

“Always.”

**Author's Note:**

> AN: Thank you for reading!  
  
(Ignoct smiling at each other like dopes in the ruined room with the remnants of the tea ceremony all around them like -)  
  
**Inspired by:** [FalchionSage’s ignoct onsen art here](https://twitter.com/FalchionSage/status/1157294071989379072?s=20)  
**Twitter:** [@starrynoctsky](https://twitter.com/starrynoctsky)


End file.
